


Aliens!

by Alicia Ann Fox (oracne)



Category: Blake's 7, Warner Brothers Cartoons
Genre: AU, Gen, Orbit Alternate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oracne/pseuds/Alicia%20Ann%20Fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cracky alternate version of the episode "Orbit."  July 8, 1994.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aliens!

“Vila...Vila, where are you?” The creepy voice bounced throughout the doomed shuttle.

Vila was shaking so hard he could hardly breathe. He clutched himself together more tightly in his tiny compartment.

_Thud._ “Ow!”

Vila’s breath caught. That, at least, had sounded natural, more like the Avon he knew. There was a moment of silence, then a string of curses erupting somewhere down the corridor.

“#*&@*%, #%&&!!! ##$$###!”

Well, Vila thought. If I come out, he may kill me, but if I stay in, I’ll die of curiosity. Resolutely he kicked, sending the compartment door flying. It crashed against the opposite bulkhead, and Vila leapt to the deck. “Avon! Where are you?”

“#$#&%#.” Vila heard a clattering noise. “Over here, fool!”

Vila sighed. He followed the sounds. He tried not to think about the shuttle’s decaying orbit.

Avon was kicking at something small on the floor. Vila bent and peered at it. He’d thought they’d gotten rid of all the excess cargo, except for Orac, and Avon’s jacket.

“Don’t stare at the damned thing, help me!”

Exasperated by the surrealism of the scene, Vila exclaimed, “Stop playing around! We’re about to die!”

Avon grabbed him by the shirtfront and shook. “That--thing--is--the--extra--mass! Help--me--push!”

Comprehension hit Vila like a stone dropped on his head. He dropped to the deck and helped Avon shove the object over to the airlock. It was astonishingly heavy. I’m going to have brushburns on my knees, he reflected, just as the tiny cube jolted against the hatch.

_Sproing_.

“Help me open the airlock!” Avon hissed.

Vila was frozen. The side of the cube had burst open, and something inside was...moving.

Avon whacked him in the shoulder, then stood up and began frenziedly to run the opening procedure himself.

Movement...out of the cube! “Yaagh!” Vila shrieked, and scuttled backwards, burning the heels of his hands on the metal deckplates.

“--ing space-brain--” With a mighty effort, Avon shoved the cube into the lock and cycled it. Almost instantly the hoarse whining of the engines lightened to a hum, which slowly increased in pitch. Sweating, Avon threw off his jacket, which narrowly missed Vila. “What are you sitting there for, idiot?! I’ve done all the work now, you can get up!”

“Th--th--there.”

Avon’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm, where did I drop my gun?”

“Uh--uh--aliens! Green aliens came out of the box!” Without knowledge of how he had done so, Vila found himself on his feet and halfway to the flight deck. A hand on his collar prevented him from retreating any farther.

“The--cube--was--solid, Vila. Forget it and let’s get back to the _Scorpio_. I am not in a good mood.”

“I saw it--”

“Ah, now it’s just one.” Force-marching his companion forward, Avon’s face bore an ironic sneer.

“A small one,” Vila said, calming down a little. He strode into the flight deck area and smacked the computer sitting there as hard as he could. “You buggering box.”

“I am incapable of the activity you describe,” Orac said primly.

“Shut up, Orac.”

Avon was checking the navigation equipment with some satisfaction. “I wonder what kind of hole that cube will make when it hits the surface?” he muttered.

Vila leaned back in his seat and let himself shake freely, now that the danger was over. Assuming that the danger was over; Avon might become murderous again, or the green alien turn out to be real....

A tapping, mingled with a moist slapping, echoed from the corridor. Vila froze, muscles tensed to flee. He tried to speak, to warn Avon; nothing would emerge from his throat but hoarse breathing.

_Slap, slap. Tap. Slap, slap. Tap._

“Ahh--”

Avon hit a button and whirled on Vila. “What the hell is it now?”

Vila extended a shaky finger towards the sound, and with his left hand tapped his ear.

Puzzlement dawned over annoyance as Avon fell quiet and listened.

_Slap, slap. Tap. Slap, slap. Tap. Slap, slap. Tap. Slap, slap. Tap._

The gentle soughing of two humans breathing was like a roaring torrent of sound as they tried to listen to the gentle tapping, and the moist slapping, echoing from the corridor.

_Slap, slap. Tap. Slap, slap. Tap._

A scream began to bubble up in Vila’s throat but he clamped his throat muscles over it. The tapping began to increase in speed, the slapping now quick and rhythmic. Vila’s heart rate sped in response. He turned his head to his companion with great effort, his eyes enormous.

_Tap!_

The alien burst into the entranceway, tapping and slapping its moist green feet for all it was worth. It was tiny, but held the tapping black stick before itself, like a weapon. Its bulging eyes rolled over its obscenely wide mouth, which opened.

Vila did scream then, a very small helpless scream.

The alien was making noise. “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal....”

After a long time Avon said, “It’s wearing a shiny hat.”

“It’s singing in Standard,” Vila noted.

“It takes the shiny hat on and off.”

“It does,” Vila agreed numbly, watching the little green thing sing and dance, for dancing was what it seemed to be doing.

“Well,” Avon said. “There was an alien in the cube.”

Wordlessly Vila nodded.

“Orac, tell us what that is.”

The computer buzzed for a moment. “That is a frog.”

“A Frog.”

“An Earth creature.”

“Oh really.”

“Do Frogs sing and dance, Orac?” Vila asked.

“My records do not indicate this to be normal conduct for this species of amphibian, though some avians are reported to perform dances associated with the mating season....”

“Shuttle, this is _Scorpio_. Do you read us? Are you all right?”

“Acknowledged,” Avon said, not taking his eyes from the frog. He switched off the communications switch.

“--baby, my heart’s on fire....” _Tap tappity tap tap, slap. Tappity tappity tap-a-ta-tap tap tap...._

Decisively Avon got up. More slowly Vila followed, staying behind him. Avon stepped closer to the little creature, then closer still. Vila held his breath. Avon swooped.

“—if you refuse me, honey, you’ll lose me--Urk.”

On the flight deck of the Scorpio, Dayna and Soolin stared, mystified, at the frog. From the pilot’s seat, Tarrant stared as well. Vila dropped Orac, a little harder than necessary, and listened as Avon detailed their visit to Egrorian, the success of the false Orac, and the astonishing true facts concerning Pinder. Then he went on to the booby-trapped shuttle, not omitting Orac’s treacherous statement, and his lucky stumble over the cube of collapsed star material. His listeners nodded dumbly, staring at the frog squatting on the teleport pad.

“It‘s perfectly safe, no biting teeth, no poison glands. And can it sing and dance! We’ll do Space City first. We’ll make millions, right under the noses of the Terra Nostra.”

“Until they want their cut,” Vila murmured gloomily.

“Then of course Freedom City.” Avon went on and on.

“But--” Dayna said.

“But what?” Avon growled, interrupted.

“But it hasn’t done anything. Are you sure it can sing?”

“It doesn’t seem likely,” Soolin added.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I saw and heard it.” Avon pointed dramatically to the green creature. “Go on, sing.”

_Ribbit._

“Sing!”

_Brek-ek-ek, koax, koax, koax._

“Dance, then!” Avon dropped to his knees beside the creature and lifted one of its moist feet.

Nothing.

Very slowly Dayna and Soolin shook their heads. Tarrant began to snicker behind his hand.

Confused, Avon scooped up the frog’s accessories. “But, look--it has a cane--and a shiny hat that it takes on and off--”

Dayna said gently, “Things have been a little rough lately, haven’t they?”

Avon surged to his feet. “It sang! And danced. I swear it did. I saw it. Vila was with me. He saw it. Vila!”

Vila looked at Avon. He looked at the frog. He looked at snickering Tarrant, pitying Dayna, Soolin who was Not Amused. He looked at the frog again, remembering Avon’s gun.

“Oh, get off it, Avon! Don’t be ridiculous.”

_Brek-ek-ek, koax, koax, koax._

 

the end


End file.
